


Come Around

by firefly_quill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_quill/pseuds/firefly_quill
Summary: Jesse McCree leaves Overwatch, having had enough of the abandonment and loss it has brought him.Hanzo Shimada follows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> It's been a bit of a rough month here, so logically, that means it's time for a hurt/comfort fic.  
> I began this story under the premise that there's not really enough h/c where Hanzo does the comforting.  
> It's perhaps not as explosively angsty as one might expect--I've always thought that Jesse's pain would be expressed in an understated way, a result of him not wanting to be a bother (sweetheart that he is). Hopefully this characterization works. I would love to hear your thoughts! <3
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all errors are my own (apologies for them!)
> 
> Song lyrics in the opening are from Sufjan Stevens’ song "Death with Dignity", from his album _Carrie and Lowell_. The entire album largely inspires the aesthetic of this story (and it is amazing and definitely worth a listen!)
> 
>  **Edit:** OH MY GOODNESS! The lovely, the amazing [dvabunnykick](https://dvabunnykick.tumblr.com/) has created this beautiful portrait of the boys inspired by this story, and it captures the overall tone just perfectly!! [Please go have a look!!!](https://dvabunnykick.tumblr.com/post/162945893745/pleaselet-them-be-happy-also-please-go-read)

_Spirit of my silence I can hear you_  
_But I'm afraid to be near you_  
_And I don't know where to begin_  
_And I don't know where to begin_

__

__

__

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Jesse McCree had barely drawn his first breath when he was abandoned for the very first time. He used to joke when he was younger that he was a firecracker even from birth, so much so that his mother didn't survive it. After Deadlock, fewer of his friends found this funny, and after several decades of loss, he decided that he didn't either. 

Perhaps for this reason, Jesse himself never abandoned anything lightly. He stayed in Deadlock long after he figured out their game, treating them as his own even though they would have discarded him in exchange for a basket of fries. He stayed with Blackwatch long after the first whispers of betrayal and corruption, long after the last dagger had been drawn unseen. He even returned to Overwatch when they called, even though it was the organization, and no one person in it, that brought the death of the man he knew and loved better than his own father. Each parting had been forced, a decision taken out of his hands by some higher power that found his suffering to be some sort of cosmic joke. 

So when he left Overwatch a second time, of his own volition for once, they knew it was with good reason. They knew it had no right to stop him. 

Jesse had retired to his pa's old house, in a sleepy town outside of Santa Fe. He didn't remember the first week of it, the days so drowned by whisky that no memory could have survived that amber haze. 

He would not have remembered the next week either, had he not run out of canned beans, which forced him to become presentable enough to go to the market, a small and unremarkable bodega in the middle of what was most certainly a food desert. He found that he barely had the energy to complete even this simple task.

Time passed. The dull ache in his chest did not, despite how hard he tried not to care.

On one of his more lucid days, Jesse remembered thinking on how long this would last, wondering whether it would be his money or his liver that ran out first. 

He wouldn't get to find out.

It had become such an expectation to Jesse for people to just up and leave him in life, that it surprised him greatly when someone arrived instead. And that is of course, exactly what Hanzo Shimada did one day. 

Jesse heard a crisp knock early on a Sunday afternoon, just before awakeness had settled enough for him to realize he was sober and hungover. He groaned, taking a moment to refocus the world as he sat up. 

Making sure that Peacemaker was loaded and at his side, he crept to the door as quietly as his heavy limbs would let him, pressing himself against it to look through the peephole. 

He was greeted by a familiar face and an impatient frown. 

Jesse's first inclination was to pretend that no one was home. Hanzo's voice stole that option from him. 

"I know you are at the other side of the door, McCree. It stinks of your cigars." 

Jesse cursed the stupid sniper and his stupid super human senses. 

He next considered just plain not opening the door. Hanzo could try to get through a second-floor window easily if he wanted, but wouldn't know the house well enough to launch an effective offensive. 

The thing was, Jesse wasn't completely sure that he didn't want to let the man in, despite himself, and despite the efforts he'd taken not to be found. Had Overwatch sent anyone else--Genji, Ana even--they would have been shit out of luck. 

"I brought that disgusting bourbon drink you like so much." 

That settled it. 

Jesse undid the deadbolts and opened the door. 

The archer continued to frown at him. Now that Hanzo was in full view, Jesse realized just how much he had changed in however long he hadn't seen the man. His hair was still tied back, but now revealed a well-kept under cut. A new piercing caught the light at the ridge of his nose, and at his ear. He was no longer wearing his usual battle gear, leaving it in favour of a tight v-neck t-shirt. Jesse's eyes slid down to consider the way the shirt hugged the man's entire chest, drew up just short of his thick arms. If Hanzo noticed that the gunslinger was staring at him, mouth open, eyes glazed with admiration, he didn't show it.

Instead, he thrust a bag towards McCree with disdain. 

"Thank you kindly," Jesse accepted the bourbon, awkward, unsure of why the man was here. "You wanna come in, I take it?" 

"Hn." 

Hanzo reached down and it was only then that Jesse realized there was a large duffel bag and several grocery bags on the ground. 

"What's this?" 

"I'm staying." 

"What now?" Jesse gawked at him. 

"I am staying," Hanzo repeated.

"Now wait just a minute," Jesse protested. "You show up here unexpected, uninvited when I clearly wanna be alone and you think I'm gonna let you stay?" 

Hanzo had already started moving his belongings into the house. For some reason lost to himself, Jesse was letting him. 

"Why the hell are you even here?" He tried with exasperation. 

Hanzo paused, turning to face him speculatively. 

"When was your last meal? That was not out of a can," he added, seeing Jesse about to answer. He handed Jesse one of the grocery bags. 

"This is ridiculous," Jesse tried again, putting the bag on the floor in protest. "You can't expect--" 

"This milk expired two weeks ago." Hanzo was now going through his fridge without permission. He scrunched his nose after sniffing the offending box and it was the cutest thing Jesse ever saw. 

He shook his head to free himself from the spell, hardening his face and his resolve. 

"Now see here--"

Hanzo recognized the rare anger crackling in his voice, and spun with the same agility as he would have used on the field to stare him down. 

McCree withered internally, but stood his ground. Hanzo was one of the few people left in his life able to make him feel abashed with just a look. 

"I left Overwatch." 

"What now...?" Jesse scrunched his brow. He thought for sure that Winston or Morrison had sent Hanzo to bring him back. 

"I left, and now I have nowhere to go," Hanzo' relaxed his stance. "May I stay with you?" He asked more softly. 

While it always surprised McCree when people arrived, it was always the darndest thing when they wanted to stay. 

\--- 

Once the groceries were put away, Hanzo started on the dishes that were overfilling the sink. Jesse took over out of guilt, and Hanzo continued to scour the kitchen and eliminated all its inedible contents. He then began to prepare what looked to be a soup broth. 

All of this had been conducted in a silence that McCree eventually broke.

"So uh...Genji?" Jesse hazarded a guess. 

Hanzo did not look up from the vegetables he was chopping. 

"What of him?" 

While the words may have seemed evasive, the other signs of Hanzo's discomfort--the rigid shoulders, stiffened neck, the deepening of the lines already worn permanently on his face-- were absent. He hadn't left because of his brother. 

Seeing that the archer had not answered his question right away, Jesse knew better than to press. 

"Dinner will be ready in two hours," Hanzo added, still not stopping his hand. Jesse watched the man's motions with interest. He was as practiced with a kitchen knife as he was with any other weapon. The sharp, precise movement of his blade stuttered quick and even against the cutting board.

"Aww, darlin', you don't haveta do that." 

"I eat as well," The archer replied wryly. He swept the contents of the cutting board into a large soup pot that Jesse didn't even realize he had. "Tell me how you have been."

"Not that much to tell, really…" 

Jesse had not expected to find such good conversation in the archer when they first met. For the first few weeks, he hadn't. After a few awkward, stilted encounters, however, they realized they had more in common than they thought. Several easier talks later, they realized they quite enjoyed the other's company. It became easy after that.

Before Jesse knew it, dinner preparations were done, the time passing quickly during their conversation. Hanzo put the kettle on, and began to rummage through Jesse's cupboard.

"Can I help you?" McCree asked, amused but not surprised that the archer was still moving through Jesse's space as though it were his own. 

"Your coffee?" 

"Might have that instant stuff..."

Hanzo made a face. "I will buy some tomorrow. You have filters? A French press?" 

"A what?" 

"The plunger contraption that we use on base,"Hanzo tried. 

Jesse blinked. Hanzo sighed. 

He reached into his bag and pulled out a tin that Jesse recognized as the tea he drank in the afternoon (which was different from the tea he drank in the morning). He also pulled out the small, blue, iron teapot that usually lived on his bookshelf in his room, and two matching teacups. 

"Your poor planning means you will have to suffer through my tea." 

"It's the roasted one?" 

Hanzo looked surprised. 

"Y'always drink that one later in the day," Jesse shrugged. In retrospect, it was an odd detail for him to notice, one of many that he had picked up over the years of friendship with the archer. Seeing how prepared Hanzo had been with groceries, he wasn't the only one who was picking up on these small things, McCree mused to himself with mild interest. 

"The roasted one's not so bad."

"Good," Hanzo snorted. "There may yet be hope for you." 

"Wouldn't go that far," Jesse warned.

"There is always hope," Hanzo replied with just enough force to suggest a larger meaning. 

"Is that why you're here?" 

"Because someone held out hope for me when I no longer had any for myself? Yes." Hanzo was loading tea into the strainer, making a point of having his back turned against McCree. 

"You know what I mean," Jesse tried again. 

"No, clearly I do not," Hanzo huffed, turning his attention to a pack of noodles. "Make yourself useful." 

He nodded towards the teapot.

Jesse sighed, and moved to turn off the boiling kettle. 

Minutes later, Hanzo had assembled the bowls of noodles. He cleared the dining table, and gestured for Jesse to take a seat across from him. 

"Thank you kindly," Jesse offered. His eyes glistened from the steam wafting from his bowl, and he realized how much he'd needed real food after just the first bite. The embarrassing sounds he was making confirmed this for Hanzo, if the archer's smug smile was any indication. 

\--- 

After they finished eating, Hanzo had once again wordlessly started to clean, and Jesse fell in beside him to help. An awkward silence fell over them after the last dish was washed and put away.

McCree felt some small obligation to entertain his guest, but exhaustion and the urge to retreat to his room won out. Or at least, it would have, had Hanzo not spoken first.

"What do you do with your evenings?" He demanded.

 _Drink until I can't remember my name_ didn't seem like the most appropriate answer, even if it were the most accurate one. 

"Nothin' that'd interest you," Jesse shrugged. It wasn't a lie, after all. While they often had often drank together in evenings past, McCree guessed that Hanzo wouldn't want to see the way he drank alone, and in fact, he was certain he didn't want to show him.

Hanzo made a sound that indicated he knew all too well what Jesse wasn't saying. He reached into his bag, took out a deck of cards, and slammed it on the table with some force.

Jesse raised both eyebrows. 

"Poker, cowboy," Hanzo explained drily. "Do you play?" 

Jesse snorted despite himself. "Does a fish swim?" 

Hanzo pushed the cards towards him. Jesse saw the distraction for what it was, but once again, like with Hanzo's arrival, realized it was not unwelcome. He figured the archer would lose interest after being trounced in a few games, and he would find the excuse he needed to lock himself in his room for the rest of the evening alone with the bourbon.

"You're gonna lose," he warned with a sly grin. It was the first he had managed in awhile.

"That is yet to be seen," Hanzo shrugged. Jesse opened the package and shuffled without even looking down. 

"What do you know?"

"The type of poker where there are five cards revealed in the centre. One at a time."

"Texas Hold'em," Jesse announced. He began to deal. "Fine game."

After losing his second round, Jesse remembered that Hanzo was in the yakuza. He started actually paying attention to the game. After losing two more, he remembered the man had told him once that his family had owned at least two casinos. Jesse started actually trying, but it was too late. 

"I'm beginning to see I've been had, Shimada," McCree grumbled with some reluctant fondness after losing the next round again. 

"The miscalculation was yours, not mine," Hanzo looked down at his nails while waiting for Jesse to place his next bet.

"Why haven't we played this before?" He wished he had been keeping better track of Hanzo's expressions, now that he knew the man was a shark. 

The archer smirked. "What is that expression of which you are so fond? 'To keep an ace up my sleeve?'" 

Jesse snorted. "To think I had you figured out. All in." 

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, and met his wager. 

"Besides," the archer continued, voice dripping with arrogance. "Winning all the time would lose its novelty." 

"You've not won yet," Jesse grinned, slamming his cards on the table. "Straight flush."

"Impressive," Hanzo mused. 

Jesse grinned triumphant, moving to collect his winnings. Hanzo placed a hand on top of his to stop him. Jesse felt the electric energy of the touch course through this arm, in an entirely pleasant way. He hoped his surprised look distracted from how his entire arm had twitched. Hanzo did not remove his hand. 

"Impressive," Hanzo repeated. "But not royal." 

He revealed his own hand. Jesse swore and his head hit the table. 

"A good effort," Hanzo's consoling words were barely in earnest. 

"Naw, we ain't done here," Jesse looked up with feigned frustration. "Split those chips again. I'm on to you now, Shimada, and we're gonna play this proper." 

A competitive glint flashed in Hanzo's eyes. 

It was 1:00am when they finally decided to retire for the night. Mccree set Hanzo up in in a guest bedroom before preparing to go to bed himself. He realized just before falling asleep, that the bottle of bourbon had remained unopened. 

\---

When Jesse woke up the next morning fairly late, but _not_ hungover, he decided that maybe there were questions that he _should_ have been asking. 

That familiar weight was on his chest: the one almost choking the air from his lungs, the one that had on many occasions caused him to spend the better part of the day frozen in a panic on his bed, but it was lighter than it had been in a long time. 

The anxiety that urged him not to face the world was ebbing, its tendrils retreating, as Jesse caught the most delicious smell wafting up from the kitchen. 

Scrambling to his feet, and taking a moment to make sure he was decent, he opened his bedroom door and headed downstairs. Hanzo was already bustling with the breakfast dishes. 

"Mornin'," Jesse tried. 

"Breakfast was served at 9," The archer answered, standing to prepare a cup of black tea.

McCree eyed the crumbs on Hanzo's plate mournfully, remembering the thick cut bacon that had arrived with the man yesterday afternoon and smelling the lingering aroma of cooked lard still in the air. 

He heard a huff and looked up to find the archer with his arms crossed. His lips were pressed into that thin smile that made Jesse's heart flutter.

"See that you are awake tomorrow by then, and you might be able to partake." 

Hanzo thrust the mug of hot tea into Jesse's hands. Jesse took it gratefully. 

"Thank you kindly." 

"There is cereal." Hanzo nodded towards the bar counter, where a bowl and spoon were already waiting beside a box of dry, disgusting-looking bran cereal. A banana sat beside the bowl. Jesse made a face. 

"It's healthy. And it was on sale," Hanzo added, observing his reaction. 

Jesse frowned. "This is all mighty nice, Hanzo, but--" 

"Lunch will be ready in an hour," Hanzo interrupted, already moving for the ingredients in the fridge. "We will need to go for groceries. I had not realized things would be quite as dire." 

"We," McCree echoed. 

"You eat, do you not?" Hanzo raised an eyebrow. 

"Han, are we gonna *talk* about this?" Jesse asked, voice rising from sheer exasperation. 

"About what?" 

"About _this._ the fact that your here." 

"I am here because I have nowhere else to go," Hanzo replied in a taut voice. "If I am unwelcome then I will leave."

Hanzo was challenging his resolve for sure now. 

"That's not the case, darlin', and you know it," Jesse frowned. "Stay as long as you like, but you don't gotta do all this." 

"All what?" Hanzo was still playing dumb. 

"This. Cooking, spending time with me…" 

_Making sure I don't die alone_. 

Jesse decided this last thought was too morbid to be said out loud.

"I eat as well," Hanzo repeated his argument from the day before. "It's easier for me to cook for two. Perhaps you would feel less guilty if you helped." 

Jesse bristled. "I don't feel guilty. You're coddlin' me, is all, and I don't need it." 

"Fine," Hanzo huffed. "Then we will go for groceries together this afternoon so that you will not be 'coddled'." 

"Mighty fine idea," Jesse shot back. 

The smirk that flashed across the archer's face confirmed that Jesse had walked into a trap. Jesse sulked while eating his delicious turkey bacon sandwich, and deliberately left the kitchen without doing the dishes in protest.

\---

Once the dishes were done (Hanzo would not leave until he had finished them), Hanzo herded Jesse towards his shoes. McCree grumbled, but complied. He hadn't given much thought to how Hanzo has traveled to his place, and was certainly not expecting the motorcycle in his driveway. Hanzo handed him a helmet. 

"Nuh-uh," Jesse shook his head firmly. "We're takin' the truck." 

"What's wrong? Scared, gunslinger?" Hanzo smirked at him. 

"Naw," Jesse lied. "Easier to carry groceries with the truck." 

Hanzo acquiesced, and left the helmets in the house before shutting the door. 

"There's a market just a few blocks down." 

"There is a farmers' market at this address." Hanzo pushed his phone towards Jesse's face insistently. 

Jesse frowned. "They'll charge ya twice as much."

"It's worth it." 

"Market's served me fine so far," Jesse argued. 

Hanzo eyed him skeptically, as though that were an argument against it in itself, and Jesse knew he had already lost. With a sigh, he gunned the engine and headed towards the address on the phone. 

The market was bustling, but not too full, for a weekday afternoon. Jesse trailed the archer with impatience at first. However, the interest with which Hanzo approached each stall was contagious. 

Jesse observed the man as closely as Hanzo browsed the fall harvest produce, smiling to himself as the archer touched every last item, as he considered whether he could successfully use a prickly pear. 

"You're really into this," Jesse commented, as Hanzo finished bickering with a vendor about the actual freshness of his plums. 

"I have realized many things since I left the clan," Hanzo continued to weave slowly through the crowd. "The simple pleasures of slowing down, for instance. And of allowing myself choice." 

Jesse marveled for a moment that he wasn't shocked at all to hear such a personal confession from the archer. They had become more and more open with each other in the months before McCree had left, and conversations of this kind seemed almost commonplace.

"Can't fault you for that now, can I?" He chuckled fondly to himself, turning to realize that he was talking to no one. Hanzo had disappeared into the crowd. Out of reflex, Jesse felt a rush of pure panic, before he recognized that they were not on the field, and therefore Hanzo was not likely in danger. He took a long breath to steady himself, and braved the crowds in search of the other man.

When Jesse finally found the Shimada, the man was holding a large paper bag filled with homemade cookies, and was already munching on one. Jesse laughed despite himself, and Hanzo scowled, taking a second out of the bag and shoving it in his mouth. 

"That sweet tooth of yours is gonna be the death of you one day. Or me." 

The archer recognized the anxiety in that last phrase that most would have missed. "I did not mean to alarm you," he said by way of apology. 

"Naw, I shoulda known you'd leave me for your true love," Jesse teased. To his surprise, Hanzo's cheeks flushed bright pink. 

The archer turned away, and responded by wordlessly thrusting the bag paper bag that he was holding towards McCree. 

Unsure of how to react to Hanzo's embarrassment, Jesse decided to ignore it. 

"Thank you kindly." Instead, Jesse took a cookie and bit into it. It almost melted on his tongue right away, being just the right mix of butter and crispiness. He begrudgingly also took a second one, to Hanzo's vindication. 

"Come. I want your opinion on the pies," Hanzo grabbed Jesse's wrist and, with a gentle tug, pulled him towards a stand, through the thickening crowds. Jesse's skin tingled pleasantly where their skin touched. He had the full intention of again shaking his hand free, but somehow, was unable to bring himself to do so. So he allowed himself to be led. 

It struck Jesse while he was deciding between Classic Apple and Southern Peach how incredibly domestic this all was. What surprised him further was how much he was enjoying the day. 

They finally returned to the truck, both struggling with the weight of several bags. 

When they got home, Jesse found himself helping to put the groceries away without being asked. Despite having spent a good amount of his life alone, Jesse always felt most grounded having someone to work and live beside. It reminded him to do things that he would normally let slide for the sake of keeping up appearances. Hell, he even trimmed his beard today for the first time in ages. 

Hanzo started on dinner as soon as everything was put in its place, and once again, Jesse found himself drawn into easy conversation with the man until it was done. The dinner dishes were barely finished when Hanzo reached into his bag, much like the evening before--this time to take out his tablet. 

"I have downloaded those films that you wanted me to watch," he scrunched his nose in distaste. 

"Eastwood?" Jesses eyes widened. He had been trying to convince Hanzo to watch those movies with him for ages. 

Hanzo nodded. 

"You would watch…what's it you called them again?"

"The live-action anime of its era?" Hanzo frowned. 

"Don't lie now, you love that stuff," Jesse chuckled. "Genji told me." 

"Ironically," Hanzo insisted. 

"Would you like to watch these or not?" He added irritably, in reply to Jesse's smirk. 

McCree raised both hands. 

"Alright, alright. 'The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly'. Ain't a person alive who wouldn't find that one delightful." 

Hanzo sniffed. "We shall see." 

He handed his tablet to Jesse, and went to find a bowl for the artisanal caramel corn they had purchased earlier. 

The bottle of bourbon once again sat untouched on the kitchen counter for the rest of the evening. 

\--- 

The reoccurring nightmares had started shortly after Jesse realized his pa wasn't coming back. His father had made sure the pantry was filled to the brim with canned foods, and had told him that he loved him, before leaving that evening with the small, brown suitcase. He never came back. A week later, Jesse had caught the notice of Deadlock while trying to steal a box of cookies from the local supermarket. They decided he was small enough to fit in cramped spaces they couldn't get to, and took him in. That he was a brilliant sharpshooter, even at the age of 10, was just a bonus. 

The dream was often the same, with small variations. A silhouette of a figure was always walking away from him, towards some brighter distance. Jesse would beg, cry, scream, but to no avail. 

First it was a woman. After he joined Deadlock, the figure transformed into a man of slim build, much like his father. When he reached forward for him, Jesse would notice his own hands were covered in blood. After Zurich, the figures changed again: there were three of them, and his hands and arms dripped with blood and ash.

He faced the latest iteration of the dream several nights after Hanzo's arrival, and fell gracelessly from it with a scream. 

Jesse sat up, gasping for breath, as the loneliness and panic in his chest expand until it filled his lungs, choking off the air and leaving him nauseous.

Jesse blinked in the dark, trying to shake the last image away, when he realized the silhouette before him, standing against the light from the hallway, was real, and it was approaching rather than retreating. 

"Jesse." 

A hand was placed gently on his shoulder, offering just enough pressure to let him know it was there, but not enough to cause him to feel trapped. 

"Jesse," Hanzo repeated. "Are you with me?" 

"Yeah," McCree answered at last. 

A pause. 

"I can make tea." Hanzo's voice was gentle. 

"Naw. That's. I'm alright." He was half trying reassure himself that this was true. As always, Hanzo caught that which was left unsaid. 

"I can stay?" He offered, with just the same lightness. 

"Naw, you don't gotta do that." 

Once again, Jesse sounded unconvincing, even to himself. Hanzo took off his slippers in response, lifting the corner of Jesse's blanket so that he could slip under it. 

This wasn't the first, second or even third time something like this had happened. Hanzo's quarters had been right beside Jesse's at Gibraltar, and the walls were thin. Jesse had convinced himself that this was just what any good friend would do when he opened the door one evening, drenched in sweat, in response to the archer's insistent banging. This was the first time, however, that Hanzo had wrapped his arms securely around Jesse's torso, pulling him in towards his own chest. 

"Hanzo…" 

"Hn?" 

Jesse realized he really had no objection, as the solid, warm length of the archer's body proved to his tired mind without a doubt that he was not alone. He didn't remember a single thought more before slipping into a comfortable, dreamless sleep. 

\---

Jesse woke up the next morning feeling far more rested than he'd felt in a long time. The pressure on his chest was completely absent. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up feeling without that general sense of dread.

He made his way to the kitchen to find proper coffee brewing, and Hanzo tending to bacon and eggs over the stove. 

"Thought breakfast was served at 9," Jesse leaned over to take in the aroma of crisping fat. He didn't realize that his chin was practically hooked over Hanzo's shoulder until it was too late. He registered that Hanzo's shampoo smelled faintly of flowers, a scent that wafted as gently as the warmth emanating from the man's body. Jesse jerked back as the close proximity made the hairs on the back on his neck stand on end. 

Hanzo didn't seem to notice at all, and just chuckled. 

"It's Sunday. And I thought perhaps you could use a heartier meal."

The archer left the reasons for his guess unspoken.

"How are you feeling?" He asked instead of directly reminding Jesse of the previous evening. 

"Rested, thank you." Jesse rubbed at the back of his head. 

Hanzo nodded towards the coffee in the newly purchased French press. 

"It should be ready." 

"Thank you kindly." 

Jesse had to admit that the coffee smelled much better than the can of instant he kept on hand. He poured two mugs, putting milk in one. He slid the other to Hanzo. 

"Thank you," Hanzo looked down at it briefly, looking pleased to find it as he liked. 

McCree set the table, and Hanzo brought over the plates of food, as well as two small bowls of cut fruit. 

"Smells heavenly, darlin'," Jesse hummed happily before digging in. 

"Your love of grease is disturbing and unhealthy," Hanzo answered with a huff, sipping his coffee. 

“We all got our vices,” Jesse nodded towards the lone cookie in the jar, that had just a few days ago been full. The archer huffed, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. 

"So what are we doin' today sweetheart?" The words slipped out before Jesse could stop them. 

Both men paused, trying to process what it meant. Jesse realized the words gave away what he'd figured out right away: that Hanzo had planned a series of distractions for him from the very beginning. The words and their delivery suggested something else: that he was now expecting Hanzo to have the day scheduled, and honestly, that he enjoyed it and looked forward to it. 

"You are not angry," Hanzo answered slowly, as he came to his own realizations. 

"No, suppose I'm not," Jesse decided.

They shared another silence.

"I would like to plot a jogging route," Hanzo said at last. 

"Plenty of nice paths 'round here," Jesse nodded. "I'll take y'round. We could also use more groceries." 

Hanzo turned up from his food to look at McCree. It was the first time that Jesse had suggested an activity. The archer gave him a slow, beaming smile, one that was unworthy of this small act. Jesse tried to hide his blush by looking down at his food. 

"The plums were nice," he added.

"We will get more then," Hanzo agreed. He blinked into his scrambled eggs for a moment.

"I've also never been to Santa Fe," he added with caution. 

"Well, that's a shame," Jesse mused. There was another pause. "I'm not sure I'm up to something like that quite yet…" 

"Of course," Hanzo cut in quickly. "Only if you would like to." 

"I'd like to show you the city," Jesse also stumbled over his words to make sure the archer's feelings were not hurt. "But I just--"

To his surprise, Hanzo began to laugh. 

The sound of it always made Jesse's heart feel ten times lighter, especially whenever he himself was able to cause it. 

"I believe that now, this finally counts as coddling," Hanzo explained. "Although it would appear we are both guilty of it."

Jesse thought on their conversion and chuckled himself, seeing it was true. 

"I would be happy to go with you to Santa Fe, whenever you are ready, if that is what you would like to do." Hanzo spoke with exaggerated formality and a smile. 

"And I would be right pleased to show you the city, when that time comes," Jesse answered in a similar tone. 

"Good." 

"Mighty fine."

\---

Days turned into weeks, turned into months. 

Jesse had been certain that Hanzo would have left before December hit, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps out of frustration, or perhaps even because that’s just what people who he cared about had a habit of _doing_. He should have known that Shimada’s stubbornness would apply to this situation as well. He was secretly glad of it. 

The bad day was inevitable. In fact, Jesse was surprised that it took so long for Hanzo to witness one. Since that first night, when Hanzo had joined him in bed after the nightmare, the archer had regularly appeared whenever it happened again. It likely made it all the worse that night when he didn’t. 

It likely made it all the worse that it was Jesse’s least favourite version of the dream. 

It began like all the others: he was alone in a room he seemed to remember, but could not place. The man he was reaching towards was wearing a black hood, and had his back turned to Jesse. 

Like always, Jesse pleaded with him, begged him not to go. In the last moment, Reyes turned, his eyes burning red, a fire that began to consume his flesh, drawing back the skin to reveal only bone. The man disappeared in a bluster of black smoke, and Reaper’s laugh was the only thing that remained. 

Jesse sat up with a scream, grasping at his blanket. The light was on in the hallway, but his room was empty. The last echoes of hysteria clawed at him, and he was unable to fight it, not being fully awake. 

Hanzo wasn’t here. He had need him, and Hanzo wasn’t here. The paranoia spiraled without an anchor to stop it. This had to be the first sign of many. Like when his pa had bought him the toy he’d asked for, for once, or when Reyes had told him firmly, without room for argument, that he should leave Blackwatch. It was the sign of a coming storm that Jesse no longer had the will to endure. 

He stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, needing more air than the indoors could provide. 

He threw the back door open clumsily, only noticing afterward that it was already unlocked. 

Hanzo was sitting on the back porch. He turned in surprise at Jesse’s arrival. The darkness hid the man’s features. 

“You weren’t there,” Jesse blurted out before he could stop himself. 

He could see Hanzo’s silhouette draw upward. 

“You weren’t there, I needed you and you weren’t there,” Jesse repeated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was irrational. He knew that Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about, knew there could have been so many reasons as to why the man had not woken him (one of which being that he was currently outside).

“Another dream?” Hanzo’s voice was tired. Jesse took it to mean that he was tired of him. 

“Why should you be?” Jesse accused, ignoring his words. “No one else ever is.”

Jesse felt the anger gathering in his chest, the anger that he wanted to level at all the ghosts in his past who were long gone. The words needed to be spoken, and Hanzo was the only one here. Jesse knew deep inside that the words weren’t meant for him.

“Jesse. Calm yourself,” Hanzo stood. 

“Just go on and leave now, why don’t you?” Jesse growled. He began to stalk towards the archer. “You all do. I don’t need your pit—“

“They,” Hanzo correct him. 

“What?”

“They all do. I will not.” The voice was still weary, but was steeled with a new resolution. 

“I don’t need your pity.”

“You do not have it.” 

“Then why the hell are you even here, Shimada?” Jesse shouted, taking another step forward to shove at Hanzo’s shoulder. “This part of your redemption? Takin’ care of useless—“

Hanzo’s hand darted out to grab Jesse’s wrist before his hand could make contact.

“Don’t.” Hanzo’s voice was a blunt force.

“What?” Jesse asked irritably. 

“Do not finish that sentence. It is not true.” 

Jesse shook his hand free. 

“Save us both from the grief, and get. Now.” 

“I will not.” 

“That was not a request,” Jesse’s voice fell dangerously low. He could feel his shoulders trembling from that simmering, smothering rage that he had bit back for years.

Hanzo did not yield.

“I am not leaving.”

 _”I am not leaving.”_ Reyes’ voice had been equally as reassuring by his bedside, the day that Jesse had lost his arm. 

“But you did,” Jesse’s voice wavered, shocked by the sudden vividness of that memory. He was no longer speaking to Hanzo. 

“Jesse.” 

“But you did.” The pain of the loss, of all of the losses, came crashing down. It was getting hard to breathe.

“ _Jesse_ ”. That firm hand was on him again, anchoring him. Hanzo had grasped Jesse’s wrist, and was drawing delicate circles into it. “Are you with me?”

Jesse blinked. He looked up into Hanzo’s face for the first time, now that he was closer to the light. Hanzo looked exhausted. His eyes were red, his face streaked with what looked like dried tears. His hair was down, and tousled to suggest that he had been having a restless night as well. 

“You look like shit.” 

Hanzo broke into a hollow laugh. Jesse, despite himself, had to follow. Hanzo had somehow taken hold of both of his wrists, and was now holding them up to his chest. 

Jesse blinked again. 

“Hanzo…”

The archer let go with one hand so that he could run it through Jesse’s hair. They were just a breath away, and yet they were always a breath away.

“I am not leaving,” Hanzo said again, looking up at him honestly. Jesse was struck again by how worn his archer looked. 

A silence passed between them as Jesse tried to bring himself back from the past fully, and to process everything that was happening in front of him right now in the present. 

He frowned, embarrassed. “You look like you’ve had a hell of a night, and here you are makin’ me feel better.” 

“I will survive,” Hanzo gave him the slightest of smiles. “We both will, I think.” 

Jesse took a long breath of the crisp winter air. He nodded. 

Hanzo pulled at his hand. “Come to bed.” 

Jesse allowed himself to be led, only mildly surprised when Hanzo took him to the guest bedroom instead of to his own. He fell into another dreamless sleep, lulled by the warmth of Hanzo’s embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse thinks back on his reasons for leaving Overwatch, in light of new intel. Hanzo plays support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! This chapter is a bit more plot-heavy, and I hope that you will enjoy it as well. I've not tagged this Reaper/76, as it's really just in the background, and I don't want to clog up the tag for those looking for stories that centre on that ship. 
> 
> As with all other stories, I've no idea how it became the way it did (word count and all), and would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading! <3

They had somehow decided, wordlessly, that Jesse would sleep together with Hanzo in the guest bedroom from that night onward. Jesse recognized for the first time that perhaps, it was something that Hanzo needed too, and felt selfish for not seeing it earlier. 

He remembered how the archer had been when he first arrived at Gibraltar: haunted, broken, barely alive in a manner of speaking. While he had recovered with time, Jesse still saw it every now and again—the look of a man who had stopped running from his sins and was trying to face them head on. It sure as hell wasn’t easy. The look on Hanzo’s face that night told him that it was something that the archer was still fighting. Perhaps he’d just gotten better at hiding it.

In light of this realization, Jesse decided that he had been a horrible friend, and that this needed to be remedied. 

He wanted to do something for Hanzo, as a surprise, but knew it would take careful planning. They were almost always together, after all, so Jesse had to take advantage of one of the few times that they weren’t. While he did sometimes join Hanzo for his morning run, at the archer’s request, Hanzo was lenient about allowing him to sleep in, especially if he promised to have tea or coffee brewed for when he got back. Jesse had this down to a science, and knew Hanzo’s routine so well that the beverage would be ready the moment the man stepped in the door. If he were to plan a surprise, he knew that he would have approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes to complete it. 

Jesse decided to reward Hanzo’s insatiable sweet tooth. His first thought was to make something for the archer from Japan, but knew that the groceries that would be required for such a recipe would give his surprise away. He then thought perhaps he could make his own favourite dessert, but realized that a pie would be difficult to pull off well in his first try. Eventually, he settled on a recipe for an apple cake that looked simple enough, used very generic ingredients and would be mostly complete by the time Hanzo returned.

The morning started as it always did, with Hanzo waking up slightly before his alarm, and leaving the bed to get his day started. Sometimes McCree would get up in the meantime to start breakfast, but he made a point of not doing so today. Hanzo chuckled when he returned to the bedroom to find Jesse still face down in his pillow. 

“I would like coffee this morning,” he murmured wryly into the gunslinger’s ear. Jesse shivered at feeling the man’s breath on his skin, warmed by the almost tender gesture. But appearances had to be kept. 

“Mph,” Jesse mumbled into the pillow. 

Hanzo huffed in amusement before leaving for the kitchen. Jesse listened to the telltale breakfast-making sounds, and the clinks that indicated Hanzo was putting the dishes in the sink, to be done later. He sat up as soon as he heard the door snap shut, and rushed down the stairs as the lock was drawn. 

While his past and his lifestyle before Hanzo might have suggested the opposite to be true, Jesse was a competent cook. He did not have a lot of experience baking, but the few times that he did while still at Gibraltar proved successful. 

Jesse had secretly gathered the ingredients and utensils for his project the night before, so that they were all easily accessible. Bringing up the recipe on his tablet, he buttered the circular pan as instructed before preparing the wet and dry ingredients separately. As he opened his bottle of rum, he was reminded yet again that he had not had so much as a drop of liquor since Hanzo’s arrival. Looking at the bottle in his hand, he realized that he was not tempted at all even to take a swig, so determined was he to get this cake right that he would not risk even the slightest obstacle that could cause it to go awry. In fact, he decided that he no longer wished to put obstacles in front of himself, or more importantly, that he no longer had _need_ for them, now that Hanzo was here. 

There was also the fact that he wanted very much to be there _for_ Hanzo, should the other man need it. He had recognized the haunted expression troubling the archer’s features from that evening in his own reflection. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to fight something that only existed in memory, how much easier it was to have a friend and anchor through those moments, as Hanzo had been for him. Jesse was just about to put that final piece of this puzzle that was their relationship into place, the one that had been just out of reach for months, when the oven beeped to let him know it was done pre-heating. It shook him out of his reverie. He furrowed his brow, determined to get this right without completely acknowledging why. 

The recipe suggested that stirring the ingredients together did not require precision, to Jesse’s relief. He cubed the apples that he had insisted they buy yesterday, and folded them easily into the batter. He poured the entire mixture into the pan, and was surprised, and relieved, that it was done. He slid the pan in the oven, and set the timer for an hour. 

While he was waiting, he chopped up extra fruit, and searched the fridge for some protein to fry up. Hanzo was often hungry once he returned, as he only had a light breakfast before leaving for the run. Jesse found some (artisanal) sausages, and decided that they would do. He did the dishes while he waited for just the right moment to start the rest of the food, and eventually put the kettle on boil for coffee. 

After some time, Jesse heard the lock on the door rattle, and darted to pour the coffee that had just finished brewing. 

Hanzo wandered into the kitchen to find the plate of food waiting for him. Jesse thrust the mug of coffee in his hand proudly. The archer thanked him with a small smile, before tilting his head, sniffing at the air in an adorable way. 

“You are baking something,” He noted with curiosity. 

Jesse nodded, just as the oven timer went off. He put on the oven mitts, and took the cake out. To his relief, it was golden brown, exactly like the picture. He turned, cake in hand, to find Hanzo’s eyes glistening with what could only be described as childish joy. 

Jesse beamed.

He put the cake aside to cool, and gestured that Hanzo should sit down. The archer did so, eyes on the cake the entire time. 

“What is the occasion?” He inquired. 

“Doesn’t need to be one, does there?” McCree shrugged, scratching at his head with a smile. “You take care of me so well, I figured it’s about time I did a lil’ somethin’ for you.” 

“That is completely unnecessary,” Hanzo protested, eyes still on the cake. Jesse laughed. 

The minute they finished breakfast, Hanzo made a bee-line for the pastry. 

“Now sweetpea, what’s it you always tell me about breakfast appropriate foods?” Jesse teased. 

“It will taste best when it is warm,” Hanzo protested with complete earnestness. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Jesse agreed, eyes still twinkling. “But recipe says it’s best served with ice cream, and that’s _definitely_ not what you’d call—“ 

Hanzo nearly knocked Jesse over in his eagerness to get to the freezer for their hand-churned vanilla ice cream. 

Minutes later, the archer had put together two ridiculous portions of the apple cake with huge scoops of ice cream on the side. Jesse watched anxiously as Hanzo took his first bite. His nervousness was abated when Hanzo closed his eyes, and made absolutely the most sinful sound to express his pleasure. Jesse felt as light as a cloud.

Hanzo’s eyes flew open, looking embarrassed. 

“It’s very good.” 

“I can see that,” Jesse grinned from ear to ear, as Hanzo began to attack the cake for real. 

“You are very talented,” Hanzo managed between another mouthful of cake. He did not seem to notice the trail of ice cream dribbling down his chin. Jesse absently reached forward to wipe it away for him, but froze immediately after the act. They locked eyes for a moment. 

Hanzo broke the tension by shoving another forkful of cake into his mouth, causing Jesse to burst into laughter. 

“Well shucks, honey, if only I’d known you were so easy to please.” 

“I am very difficult to please,” Hanzo replied haughtily. “You should count this as a great victory.”

“Oh, believe me, I do,” Jesse laughed again. 

Hanzo’s features softened. “I missed hearing your laughter.” 

McCree blinked at the honesty of the words. “I suppose I missed laughing,” he admitted. 

“I am glad you have found your humour again,” Hanzo shot him another genuine smile that made Jesse’s heart beat twice as fast. He found himself once again wondering at what they _were_ to each other now. 

“This is worth celebrating.” Hanzo’s words cut through his thoughts, or rather, the fact that he had stood to get another piece of cake did. 

“Hey now, I see where this is going, Shimada,” Jesse warned in jest. He stood as well, putting himself between Hanzo and the counter. “Save some for later, would ya?” 

A truly devious grin flashed across Hanzo’s face. “Make me.” 

“Oh pardner, you’re on,” Jesse shot back with just as much fire. 

They ended up wrestling each other onto the floor, ice cream dripping from both of their faces (Hanzo had insisted that the cake was too precious to waste, even though Jesse had pointed out the pint of ice cream had cost them $30) before they finally agreed to a détente. 

\---

They should talk. They probably really should have talked months ago, if Jesse were to be honest, about whatever was happening between them. It was likely a conversation they should have had before Jesse even left Gibraltar. He wondered sometimes whether it was part of the reason he left: the knowledge of his feelings for the man versus the debilitating fear of confronting Hanzo with this truth, for fear of ending the friendship they had. 

But the way that the archer himself treated McCree, the fact that he had shown up at his house after Jesse hadn’t so much as said goodbye, the way they woke up sometimes wrapped up in each other’s embrace, the way Jesse had to turn around in the mornings so that his back was facing Hanzo instead of his front, the easy way in which they had made this life together—the fact that Jesse was thinking of them as even _having_ a life together, all suggested that their relationship would survive this conversation, and in fact, could thrive from it. 

And yet. 

\---

Jesse had known from the very beginning of their friendship that he had Hanzo made a good team. They formed an unspoken understanding almost instantly. Whatever the task, whether on the field or not, they fell into an easy rhythm, working with and around the other person with ease. They were inexplicability tuned in to each other’s feelings, and it was for this reason, that Jesse just _knew_ that something was off that day. 

Hanzo was being waspish in a way that Jesse had not seen since his early days at Gibraltar. The irritation wasn’t directed at McCree, and Hanzo was visibly making an effort to make this clear to Jesse. Nevertheless, the tension in the house was palpable, and Jesse worried about Hanzo.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He finally offered after dinner had been eaten mostly in silence. Hanzo refused to look at him.

“I apologize,” Hanzo began to wring his hands together—a sure sign of his anxiety. “It is nothing serious.” 

“Don’t seem like nothin’ serious,” Jesse tried more gently. 

Hanzo huffed. 

“Let’s move to the couch?” Jesse suggested. He had noticed that the archer always seemed in better spirits when sitting beside him. Hanzo blinked at his dinner dish for a moment before nodding. 

As predicted, the tension holding the archer’s shoulders rigid did let up once they were seated side by side. The furrow in his brow increased, however. 

“You can tell me, darlin’,” Jesse encouraged. 

This only caused Hanzo’s frown to deepen. “I know. But it does not make it any easier.” 

Jesse reached to hold Hanzo’s hand, and rubbed circles onto his wrist. Hanzo raised an eyebrow at the motion, but Jesse only shrugged. “It always calms me down when you do it.” 

Several emotions fluttered across Hanzo’s face, far too quickly for Jesse to read. Hanzo took a deep breath and nodded. 

“You know that I am in contact with Genji.” 

Jesse nodded. Hanzo had told him this early on, but had also assured Jesse that he had not divulged his location to anyone in Overwatch, not even his brother. He simply kept in contact so that Genji would know that he was okay. 

“Our correspondence has been discovered by Ana.” 

“Oh.” Jesse’s heart dropped. 

\---  
_  
"You knew. You *knew*, didn't you?"_

_Ana and Morrison shot each other a glance. Ana's was accusing. Jack's was grim._

_"Say it." Jesse's voice was trembling before the truth of that which was unspoken._

_Neither Ana nor Jack answered._

_"Say it!" Jesse roared, with that anger he thought he'd left with Deadlock, after meeting Gabe._

_Morrison stiffened, and looked like he was about to chastise him. Ana held him back._

_"Reaper is Gabriel Reyes," Ana finally said, with some effort._

_"How long have you known?" Jesse demanded._

_"We had suspected for a long time," Ana answered again._

_"How long?" Jesse repeated._

_"Since before Recall," Morrison grunted._

_And Jesse had laughed—laughed at how ridiculous this was._

_"You were gonna tell me when?"_

_"We didn't want to hurt you, ḥabībī," Ana tried to reach for Jesse's hand. "We did not want to give you false hope."_

_"What if I'd killed him?" Jesse dodged, and ignored Ana's comment, too horrified by the new thought to care. "What if I hadn't recognized him and killed him first? Would you have told me then?"_

_"I knew that you would know him, the minute you crossed paths. Just like I did," Morrison took off his visor to rub at his face. "Just didn't think you'd run into him so soon."_

_McCree didn’t answer. He was seething, pacing the room back and forth like a caged animal. He froze as his decision hit him, and then walked resolutely towards the door._

_"Jesse, where are you going?" Ana's voice suggested that she knew, and that she was wordlessly pleading him not to leave._

_"You wanna know whether it's still Gabe behind that mask. I'm gonna find out."_

_Jesse walked with purpose, dropping his Overwatch comm on a table as he passed it._

_"Jesse--" Jack tried. Jesse couldn't remember the last time Morrison had used his first name, couldn’t remember the last time he heard such pain in Jack’s voice._

_He stopped and turned his head to look at them over his shoulder. "Don't wait up. I'm not comin' back."  
_

\---

“Jesse?” Hanzo was peering at him anxiously. 

Jesse shook the memory from his head and returned to the present. “I’m here.” 

“They do not know your location,” Hanzo reassured him, but he still looked troubled. “But Ana has asked permission to see you.”

Despite his feelings about the situation, Jesse blinked at Hanzo with confusion. “But why’s this upset you so much?” 

Hanzo considered his answer, as he put it to words for the first time. 

“I did not want to put you in such a position,” he finally replied. “And only agreed to correspond with my brother if it were never to happen. I feel as though I have betrayed your trust.” 

Jesse grasped more tightly at Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo looked up to meet his eyes, surprised. “You’ve done no such thing,” he looked at the archer kindly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did everything you could to make sure they didn’t track you to me.” 

Hanzo nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “When I left, I tried to make it seem like an act of defiance, as though I had finally finished the with the organization, not that I was going to search for you.”

“Hence the haircut?” Jesse guessed.

The corners of Hanzo’s lips turned up slightly. “And the piercings. But perhaps both were a long time coming.”

Jesse whistled. “Honeybee, I think maybe I like your rebellious side.” 

Hanzo turned pink, but rolled his eyes. “This does not solve our problem.” 

_Our_ problem.

Hanzo’s words only confirmed what Jesse already knew to be true: they would confront this issue together. 

“Any idea what Ana wants to talk about?” 

Hanzo shook his head. “Nothing that would not be conjecture.”

Jesse searched himself, and found that he was not as firmly against speaking with some of his old friends as he had once been, likely to Hanzo’s credit. At the same time, this was not a meeting that he would relish. 

“I’m not sure I wanna go—“

“Then we won’t,” Hanzo cut in, eyes narrowing with determination. “I will tell Genji. If he presses, then—“

“I can’t ask you to do anything like that, Han,” Jesse interrupted more gently. Seeing that the archer was about to protest, he continued first. “I mean, I’m not sure I wanna go in alone.” 

As always, Hanzo realized what he was asking immediately.

“Then you won’t. I will go with you, if that is what you want,” he offered. 

Jesse took some time to consider his answer, to make sure that it was the right one. He finally nodded. “It is.” 

Hanzo nodded as well. “Very well.” 

\---

They arranged the meeting for two weeks later, in an anonymous diner just outside of Las Cruces. It was a four-hour drive, but the time passed quickly with their conversation, or even in their easy silences. They took turns driving to make it easier. 

“Are you certain you would like to meet with her?” Hanzo asked again, eyes on the road. 

“Sweetheart. Honeybee. That’s the 5th time you’ve asked that. This hour,” Jesse leaned back and put his hands behind his head. 

Hanzo stayed silent. Jesse took the cue and flashed him an easy smile.

“Listen. You didn’t lead them to me. I don’t have to meet them if I don’t want. You’re doin’ me a favour by comin’ with me. Whatever happens at this meeting, you’ve done your best to keep me safe.” 

Hanzo’s frame barely relaxed at all, but Jesse knew to count it as a victory.

Hanzo had insisted that they arrive well before the appointed time so that Jesse would be saved the moment of walking towards the already seated Overwatch members, and Jesse had to agree it was the right call. It also gave him some time to collect his nerves before the meeting with a cup of coffee. 

“How are you feeling?” Hanzo asked. He was sitting beside Jesse in the booth. 

Jesse shot him a meek smile. “As well as expected, darlin’, but I’ll be alright.” 

Hanzo nodded. “We will leave if you want to leave. Just give me the signal and I will make it so.” 

The archer took Jesse’s hand, which was lying on the seat of the booth, hidden by the table. The warmth of the touch grounded Jesse, reminding him that he was not in this alone. It reminded him of something else that had been skirting around his thoughts as well. 

“Han…what exactly are we—“

“They are here,” Hanzo interrupted stiffly. Jesse couldn’t help but notice that the archer was even more on edge than he was, which he found incredibly endearing. 

Ana and Genji were indeed walking towards their booth. They were both in civilian clothes: Ana in a blue outfit with flowing dark blue pants that matched her headscarf, and Genji in jeans and a loose-fitting hoodie that was drawn up to hide his scars and metal. 

Jesse and Hanzo stood to greet them. Ana looked as if she wanted to give them a hug, but held herself back at the last moment. Genji had no such reservations, and gave the gunslinger a hard slap on the shoulder before throwing his arms around his brother’s neck. Hanzo gave a soft grunt in surprise, but returned the embrace. 

They sat down, all eyeing each other warily except for the cyborg ninja, who seemed genuinely pleased to be there. 

The waitress arrived to take their drink orders. 

“You look well, Jesse,” Ana offered. 

“And you look elegant as always, ma’am,” Jesse reached up to tilt a hat that wasn’t on his head. His hand dropped back down to the seat of the booth, and Hanzo intertwined their fingers, as Jesse had hoped he would. Jesse squeezed his hand in response. 

“You’ve been eating well. That is a relief.” Her eyes slid over to observe Hanzo for just a second before returning to Jesse. 

Once again, Genji wasn’t as subtle. 

“Someone must be feeding you. Because we all know what you eat when no one’s around,” he shot Hanzo a knowing grin. 

“Last I recall, you weren’t much better,” Jesse sniped back, sensing Hanzo’s discomfort. 

Genji raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Defensive.” 

“Children, behave,” Ana chided with a smile. 

Genji snorted, and leaned back in his seat, eyes still twinkling with mischief. 

“So, how have you been?” Ana inquired. 

Jesse shrugged. “About as good as you think, given the circumstances.” 

“Better, I imagine,” Genji mused, looking up at the ceiling. 

Hanzo snapped at him in Japanese, but that only made the ninja grin even wider. 

“And you?” Jesse thought it only polite to ask, and figured it only polite to ask, and figured it would draw attention away from Genji. 

“Well enough.” Ana watched the exchange, her sharp eyes missing nothing, but filling with sadness nonetheless. “We miss the both of you dearly.” 

Jesse shuffled in his seat, and Hanzo traced patterns on his hand under the table to calm him. McCree shot the archer a grateful look. 

“Why are you here?” Hanzo abruptly got to the point with some force. 

Ana looked more charmed that the archer was clearly looking out for Jesse than offended. Genji made a choked off cooing sound, ended abruptly by Hanzo’s murderous glare. 

“Most importantly, to ensure you two were alright,” Ana began. 

“And now that’s confirmed?” Jesse asked. 

Ana sighed. “After you left. You had an altercation with Talon and Reaper.” 

Every muscle in Jesse’s body drew taut. Hanzo saw it, and sat forward, baring his teeth. He took over the conversation.

“What of it?”

Ana looked conflicted, but continued. “We need to know if Jesse spoke with Reaper before the bomb went off that day.” 

Hanzo bristled. “I gave a full report on the situation before my departure.”

“Yes, of course,” Ana tried kindly. The look in her eyes suggested she did not want to push for this information either. “But you were not the first on site.”

Hanzo turned to face Jesse, evaluating his response to Ana’s question. Jesse opened his mouth to offer some sort of reassurance, and nothing came out. Hanzo understood. He stood up, pulling Jesse with him. 

“We are done here,” he scowled. 

Genji spat out his coffee. 

“Holy shit, you’re holding hands,” he managed once he recovered.

Hanzo and Jesse both looked down at their linked hands before looking at each other, as though the significance of the act hadn’t taken hold until Genji put it into words.

“Pay better attention, ḥabībī,” Ana took a sip of her tea. “They have been holding hands this entire time.”

Genji slammed his hand on the table, looking pleased. “Hana owes me money.” 

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. “This does not change the fact that we are leaving.” 

“Please, Hanzo. Jesse. I would not be asking this lightly,” Ana tried.

“Then why?” Hanzo demanded. 

Ana hesitated. Genji was also regarding the former captain with curiosity, suggesting that he didn’t know the answer either. 

Ana drew a breath. “We have reason to suspect that Reaper has been feeding us information on Talon for years. Directly into Athena’s system.” 

Genji, Hanzo and Jesse gaped at her. 

“If anything was said to Jesse that may have suggested Gabriel’s true loyalties, it might help to confirm this.”

Jesse stopped listening, couldn’t hear past the blood pounding in his ears.

Hanzo must have noticed once again, as he began to panic. 

“Jesse. Jesse!” 

\---  
_  
Jesse never thought he’d ever hear Gabe admit he was wrong._

_He doesn’t remember the man ever doing so—not in front of him, at least._

_In the months after he had left Overwatch, he searched for Reaper relentlessly, like a man possessed. He used every trick in the book—every trick that Reyes himself had taught him, and a few that he had picked up on his own._

_He pieced together too late that by pursuing the man, he was already breaking one of the first rules he’d been taught—he was chasing a target while blinded by emotion._

_When Jesse caught up with Reaper in Berlin, and faced him down one on one on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, he thought he had the upper hand._

_"Just like those westerns you like so damn much," Reaper had sneered._

_Jesse had just frowned at him, jaw clenched._

_“Where’s my shitty one-liner?” Reaper taunted. “I would have thought you’d have some loaded up.”_

_He was met with silence again, and was getting visibly agitated._

_“Come on, kid, you’re barely making this fun.”_

_“Why, Gabe?”_

_It was Reaper’s turn to fall silent in the face of Jesse’s defeated, trembling voice._

_“Why?” McCree repeated._

_“Why not?” Reaper snapped. “Why not turn again the organization that’s been feeding you shit for years? That treats all your soldiers like collateral damage? That was so fucked up from the inside out that—“_

_“You abandoned us.”_

_The man in black had no response._

_“Jack, Ana, Genji. You abandoned me.”_

_Reaper took another beat before answering with a snort. “You grew up in a gang, ran in black ops, and you’re telling me your abandonment issues are most important? Not the casual terrorism?”_

_“Ain’t nothin’ casual about terrorism,” Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “But that I know how to deal with. That’s got its consequences. What I don’t understand is why.”_

_“Doesn’t matter, though, does it?” Reaper’s voice was still hollow, flat. His fingers twitched for his twin guns. “Sabotage, attacking innocents, violence. All of that’s got its consequences, reasons be damned. Isn’t that what I taught you? Justice ain’t gonna dispense itself. So dispense it already!”_

_“Naw, you taught me the opposite. That the ends justify the means, so there’s gotta be an end with you. There always is,” Jesse insisted. He refused to reach for Peacekeeper._

_Reaper drew both guns with a long hum. “So that’s it then? Still holding onto the ideals of good and evil. What’ll it take, McCree? Who do I have to kill? Morrison? Genji? Ana? What’ll prove to you you’re all wrong?"_

_“Ain’t it funny we’re all still alive?” Jesse challenged. “Ain’t it funny that everyone on what you call your shit list walks away from every battle against you?”_

_“Clearly something I am going to have to rectify,” Reaper growled. “Starting now.”_

_“Why, Gabe?” Jesse repeated._

_“Don’t call me that!” The man roared, pulling the safety on both guns at the same time. "Don't pretend to know who I am!"_

_"I ain't," Jesse answered flatly. "I just know what you're not."_

_“Do you?” He sneered. “Am I not Reaper: international terrorist, Talon operative? Isn’t that why I allowed you to track me to Berlin, finally? Isn’t that why I allowed Talon to rig this place to blow? Because they decided that collecting your bounty would really line their coffers?”_

_Jesse paled, realizing he really hadn’t gotten as good a sense of the building as he should have._

_“You’ve got two more minutes of blustering about good and evil before this place goes up and I wraith clear out of here. So please. Go on.”_

_“You’re lyin’,” Jesse tried._

_Reaper shrugs. “Only one way to find out.”_

_“Fine.”_

_Reaper’s entire body stiffened._

_“Fine,” Jesse repeated. “It’s not like I got anything else to live for anyway. Let’s see if you got it in you, Reyes.”_

_Reyes was about to snarl his answer when an arrow through his shoulder cut him off._

_It literally went through his shoulder as the man dissipated just in time. Jesse looked to the direction from which it was fired, heart in his throat. The sun hit behind the archer on his perch at the edge of the building, setting his silhouette aglow. His bow was already raised for the next shot. The entire scene reminded Jesse all too much of the dream he hated the most._

__No no no not him._ _

_It took some time before Jesse realized the sound he was hearing was the blood in his ears, pounding the words through his head. It was so overwhelming that he barely noticed he had actually spoken the words aloud._

_Oddly, but not beyond his notice, Reaper's attention was on McCree, not the intruder._

_"Release him." Hanzo commanded, voice thick with fury._

_Reaper finally turned to face the archer, tilting his head with interest as the man's face came into view._

_"Hanzo, bomb!" Jesse shouted desperately. He was willing to gamble his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to gamble the archer’s. "One minute left. Run!"_

_Hanzo's features sharpened in panic. Instead of running away, however, he dove at Reaper instead._

_Reyes fell backwards with a surprised grunt. Hanzo pressed his thick set arms on the other man’s chest, holding him down._

_"Go!" He screamed at Jesse. Jesse stood still, paralyzed._

_Thirty seconds left, and Reaper began to laugh._

_"Maybe I was wrong," he admitted, turning his mask so that it faced Jesse. "Maybe we both were."_

_Jesse never thought he’d ever hear Gabe admit he was wrong. Especially with his last words._

_With the strength that only a super soldier could have mustered, he threw the archer towards Jesse. They tumbled, and Reaper kicked them over the edge of the building into an awning that he must have known was there, just as the bomb went off._

\--- 

A new variation of the dream haunted him after that day. Instead of walking away, the silhouette ran towards him. Hanzo screamed his name before disintegrating into a wash of fire and blood.

\---

Something was pulling him back. Something insistent. Someone stubborn. 

“Jesse!”

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a gentle tingle on his wrist, and recognized it immediately. His eyes flew open to find Hanzo peering at him, both hands tracing shapes onto his arms. 

Ana was half-standing, and looked like she had been about to reach out for him, but Genji was holding her arm back. 

Jesse took several deep breaths, the pounding in his ears dulling with each intake. The sudden oxygen was dizzying, but he managed to offer the archer a lopsided smile. 

He answered the question he knew was coming. “I’m with ya.” 

Hanzo frowned, but relief noticeably flooded his features. He nodded once, still smoothing his fingers over the skin on Jesse’s wrists. 

An exaggerated cough drew their attention. Ana and Genji were both beaming at them with pride. 

“So when’s the wedding?” Genji asked casually. 

Jesse and Hanzo shot them identical scowls. 

“Really? Right now?” Hanzo asked flatly. 

Genji shrugged, still grinning.

“It’s not like that,” Jesse protested. 

Genji burst into laughter, but caught himself, likely realizing that this was his brother and a romantic relationship that they were talking about. He shot a quick look at Hanzo, who was still frowning down at their joined hands. Genji groaned, and it was his turn to snap at his older brother in Japanese. 

Hanzo shot something back in the same language, and they began to bicker in earnest.

Ana rolled her eyes. 

“Enough!” She finally snapped. Both Shimadas turned to her with matching looks of guilt, and Jesse couldn’t help but wonder whether this was something they had practiced in their youth. He started to chuckle, which met with a stunned silence.

Jesse sat down again, pulling Hanzo with him. Hanzo searched the gunslinger’s expression for distress before nodding, and relaxing his hand on their seat. 

“Reyes talked shit, but he saved my life that day at the cost of his own,” Jesse said, after some time, realizing the truth of the words as they were spoken. “He said he led me there because of Talon, but knew how to get me and Hanzo off the roof quick. It was like he was tryin’ to get me to believe he’d truly turned his back on me.” 

“But he failed,” Ana filled in quietly.

“Yeah, I suppose he did,” Jesse admitted, swallowing hard. 

“Jesse. I am sorry that we kept the truth from you,” Ana looked up to meet his gaze. “Jack had believed it for the best, and I wasn’t certain enough to stop him.”

“Well. Ghosts of the past,” Jesse took a long sip of his now tepid coffee. Under the table, Hanzo rubbed at his hand with his thumb. 

“Perhaps not,” Ana looked grim. Jesse and Hanzo looked up abruptly. She took a tablet out from her bag, and turned it on. 

“Jack. Have you gathered our guests?” Ana asked the screen. There was a gruff grunt, which must have been an affirmative. 

Jesse raised an eyebrow and turned to Genji. Genji shrugged, having no answers. 

Ana turned her tablet around, and the other three agents crowded to see. The screen displayed Morrison in his bedroom. For a moment, Jesse thought that there were several pairs of balled up black socks on his bed, until of them began to wriggle. 

“What…” Jesse furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“We can’t see them, Jack. Hold one closer.” 

“They don’t like to be looked at that close,” Morrison’s voice grumbled over the speaker. 

“Jack,” Ana warned.

There was another indecipherable grumble, as Jack moved out of view, bringing the tablet closer to the pile of black socks. Jesse realized that they were small, black beanbags. With white masks. 

“What in tarnation—“ 

One of them hopped up to the camera and peered at it curiously. 

“Die,” it chirped, almost as a question.

That started a chain reaction. All three of the beanbags began to bounce on the bed, alternately peeping “die” and “Jack” as they crowded the screen. 

“What the hell?” Genji demanded. 

The camera shifted back to Morrison, who gave a long sigh. “It’ll take me hours to settle them down again. Thanks for that.”

Ana propped the tablet up on a napkin dispenser before answering. 

“Jack has been keeping them in his room. They seem to like him,” Ana added with a wry smile. “We found them at the site of the explosion. Well. One. We found one.”

Jesse waited. 

“We found the second when Talon nearly made it onto Gibraltar undetected. It was found beside another localized explosion, one that Talon had not intended, but that had drawn our attention to their presence. The third…” she trailed off. 

“…was waiting for me at that shitty fake Mexican restaurant last week in town,” Morrison grumbled. 

“The one you always took Reyes on his…oh.” Jesse stopped.

Gabe’s birthday had been last week.

“On record, even Talon has Reaper listed as a casualty of your encounter,” Ana explained. “But the intel on them keeps coming. Mercy managed to run some tests on one of the beans—“

“After you sleep darted me,” Jack cut in with a growl. 

“—and found that they’re composed mostly of the same nanites found in Reaper,” she finished, shooting Jack a glare. “We would have one of them here in person, if someone did not think them too precious to leave the base.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Amari,” Morrison warned, but his tone almost suggested amusement. One of the beans had somehow made its way up his shoulder, and was nuzzling at his neck. 

“Die!” It confirmed. 

“What does this mean?” Hanzo asked.

“We’re not certain,” Ana replied slowly. “But we think that Gabriel Reyes is still alive. And that he is still helping us against Talon.” 

Genji, Hanzo and Jesse startled at the news.

“And the beans?” Genji peered at the screen more closely.

“Stop calling them that,” Jack interrupted. 

“The beans seem to be something that he is…shedding, perhaps deliberately, perhaps unconsciously. They are too small to be completing the tasks required to pass on the intel themselves, but they have lingered even after Reaper himself had gone. Perhaps because on some level, he—“

“—Wants to stay,” Jesse murmured with quiet astonishment.

Ana nodded. “And if that is the case, we need to track him down. To let him know that he is welcome back.”

She paused. “We would like it if you would help us.” 

Jesse sat silent, trying to process the news. Hanzo watched his reaction closely before speaking. 

“We will need some time,” The archer answered for him.

“We?” Genji smirked. 

Hanzo snarled something else in Japanese, and Jesse recognized several colourful curse words that Genji had taught him back in Blackwatch. 

“Are those two together yet?” Everyone turned to the screen in surprise at Morrison’s voice. “Because if so, Hana owes me money.” 

“Is it so slow a month that everyone in Overwatch has time to concern themselves with frivolous things such as this?” Hanzo snapped. 

Genji brushed his frustration off as only a younger sibling could. “You are family. It’s what we do.” 

_Family_. 

Jesse was struck by how such a simple word could cause him such pause, could cause such a red blush to spread across his archer’s face and neck. 

Genji must have seen it as well, as he offered another sentiment in Japanese, in a calmer, less shit-eating tone. 

Hanzo didn’t answer. 

A new, sinking feeling was settling in his stomach as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, as what the entire team had sensed, even at such a distance—that which he had been questioning himself time and again even before leaving the Watchpoint—finally became a possibility in Jesse’s mind. And it terrified him.

Ana decided to ignore the teasing altogether. “Take as much time as you need. We will start without you, but I will send news with Genji.” 

Hanzo looked to Jesse to ask if this was acceptable. Jesse nodded, still in a trance. Hanzo’s frown deepened, but he did not press. 

\--- 

By the time they walked back to the truck after saying their goodbyes, Jesse had already made his decision. He held onto it, wondering at the best way to broach the subject.

Not knowing how long the meeting would take, Hanzo had suggested that they book a room in case they weren’t feeling up to the drive back. Their ride to their hotel in town was short and quiet. 

“How would you like to proceed?” Hanzo inquired as soon as their hotel door had closed behind them. 

Jesse drew a breath. “I gotta go find him.” 

Hanzo nodded, as though he expected this answer. “I will make preparations for travel when we return.” 

“No, Hanzo.” The archer startled at hearing Jesse use his actual name. Jesse gave him a wavering smile, swallowing at the lump in his throat. “I gotta do this myself.” 

Hanzo turned abruptly to face him, scowling. “You what.” 

“I can’t burden you anymore.” 

“You’ve never burdened me,” Hanzo insisted. 

“Then I can’t bring you into this,” Jesse shook his head, thinking back to the dream that ended with Hanzo running towards him, that ended in flames. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not even sure that I’ll find him, or in what way, but it’s gotta be my problem.” 

“No.” Hanzo crossed his arms, and turned his body so that he was fully facing Jesse. 

“Darlin’, that’s not a choice you get to make,” Jesse stood firm. “I’m not gonna put you in danger for somethin’ that’s mine to carry.” 

That must have touched a nerve, because the archer actually _growled_ , and began to stalk towards him. 

"I have never understood how someone so loud, so abrasive--" 

"Now you ain't such a prize yourself," Jesse shot back defensively. 

"--could commit to suffering in such silence," Hanzo kept talking over McCree. 

Jesse blinked. "What now?"

"You heard me." The archer frowned defiantly. It was almost a pout. Jesse's resolve weakened as his heart began to melt. He took a deep breath to recenter himself.

"My grief is my own," Jesse argued. 

"Of course," Hanzo acknowledged. "I of all people understand this. But it does not mean you must suffer it alone." 

"Ain't no one else's burden."

"Isn't it?" Hanzo challenged. "You think those who care about you enjoy seeing you in pain? Seeing you isolate yourself needlessly?" 

"No one told you to come," Jesse shot back. A look of pure hurt spread across Hanzo's features, and Jesse instantly regretted his words. Just as quickly, the expression was wiped away with a scowl. 

"No, no one did," Hanzo snapped. "But as I said, I of all people understand this. How it feels to grieve alone, even after you are given the chance to share that burden. *You* were the one who taught me that *I* did not have to."

Jesse thought back to the first few months after the archer had arrived, to how he held himself like he had little right to be there, and every reason to close himself off. 

"I brought you a cactus," Jesse remembered. 

"You brought me a cactus," Hanzo repeated, lips quirking into that half smile at the memory. "And told me--" 

"That it was half as prickly as you, but also less than half as beautiful," Jesse chuckled despite himself. 

Hanzo was not laughing. He was staring into Jesse's eyes with that same burning expression that Jesse had seen a hundred times over, the one that was only ever directed at him, the one that Jesse had made a point of ignoring and denying for months, years even. For another moment, Jesse allowed himself to think the impossible. 

"That day." He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. "That day...I told you to run." 

"You did," Hanzo acknowledged, understanding what Jesse was talking about immediately.

"And you ran the wrong way. Why?" 

"Is it so unclear to you, still?" 

The archer walked towards him with the same determination that he'd use to face down 20 opponents. 

Jesse flinched, but stood his ground just as bravely. He amused himself for a moment, thinking about how they must look: an assassin and an outlaw, staring down their feelings with much intensity as they would stare down any of the most dangerous obstacles on the field. 

"Tell me." 

Hanzo furrowed his brow, trying to find the words as he stopped just a breath away. "I could not imagine a life without you in it."

Jesse blinked again in surprise as the idea finally took hold, as he finally allowed himself to admit what he'd known for a long time. 

“I can’t lose you,” Hanzo continued, his voice cracked, risked breaking on the emotion roiling beneath. “Not again.” 

It was rare to see the archer in this state: his body folded in on itself, as though he feared the very expression on Jesse’s face, as though he thought it would speak of rejection. It made Jesse’s heart ache, as he wondered how long Hanzo had been holding this confession back for his account, because he worried that Jesse was not yet able to accept his feelings. Jesse wondered how long he had done the same. He only noticed the walls he had put up to protect his heart when they came tumbling down. 

“Okay,” Jesse heard himself murmur as he gathered the other man into his arms. “Okay.”

The tension that had been forcing them to keep just out of arm's reach for weeks, months, years, even, was cracking. With just another moment, it crumbled completely, crushed as the space between them closed, their bodies falling together, drawn fast by another force. 

Their first kiss was a deep, desperate thing, as the finally let their actions speak the words they could not have spoken before. 

Neither of them realized they were moving towards the bed until the edge of it caught the back of Hanzo’s legs. They teetered for a moment, looking to each other with widened eyes at what this meant, and came to an agreement at the same time. Jesse allowed himself to be pulled down onto Hanzo, his lips chasing another searing kiss. 

\--- 

Three months later, they were walking along the Central Ferry Piers in Hong Kong. Hanzo was sipping a fresh made iced lemon tea, holding Jesse’s bubble waffle while the gunslinger kneeled down to inspect his find. He taxed one, popping it in his mouth with while making deliberate eye contact with Mccree, and earning a raised eyebrow. 

“That’s gonna cost ya, sweetpea.” 

Hanzo shrugged. “Worth it.” 

They both turned their attention to the small, wriggling ball with a white mask that was bouncing on the dock. 

“Die!” It announced, and seemed happy to see them. 

“Has Reyes always had a horrific sense of humour?” Hanzo asked wryly. 

Jesse frowned. 

The bean had a small cowboy hat strapped to its head. 

“Yeah,” Jesse rolled his eyes. “At least this proves he knows we’re here.” 

“Howdy.” 

“What.” Jesse said flatly. Hanzo coughed in a poor attempt to hide his laughter. 

“Howdy, howdy!” The bean chirped. 

“I do _not_ say that,” Jesse protested. 

Hanzo kissed him on the cheek, handing him the iced tea as the bean began to hop away, turning back to ensure they would follow. 

“Come,” he chided. “This shows that Reyes has some affection for you still.” 

Jesse sipped the tea, but continued to scowl. Hanzo intertwined their fingers, and pulled him up. 

They strolled towards the bean, hands still joined, occasionally rubbing shoulders. 

Jesse marveled, not for the first time, at how natural the shift in their relationship had been. They continued to dote on each other (for he recognized that doting was exactly what they were doing, in retrospect), as much as they had done before admitting to their feelings. There were, of course, some new aspects that Jesse thoroughly enjoyed: the kissing, the public affection, and the exceptional sex, but all of this only went to prove that they had always been _them_.

“What if it’s a trap?” Jesse began to fret. “What if he’s set a building to blow, or—“ 

“Then we will adapt, as we have always done before,” Hanzo replied calmly. “And we will live to chase another day.”

Jesse was struck by how such simple phrases could reinforce his confidence, and knew it largely had to do with the person speaking the words. His silence must have concerned Hanzo, as the man stopped and turned to face him. 

“Are you with me?” Hanzo asked, eyes scanning for an answer even before Jesse could give one. 

Jesse leaned into steal a kiss, to the archer’s surprise. 

“Now and always, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The apple cake *is* surprisingly easy. It’s one that even I was able to make successfully (although I’ve made some creative adjustments with the timing here for the purposes of this story): <http://www.davidlebovitz.com/dorie-greenspan-french-apple-cake-recipe/>
> 
> Reaper bean’s new vocabulary and cowboy hat likely inspired by this excellent comic, which in the context of this story, definitely happened at some point in their past: <http://sara-wawa.tumblr.com/post/152071413923/rot-in-hell-reyes-but-that-does-happen-to-a>
> 
> Whew, thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come visit me on [tumblr! ](https://fireflyquill.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Come Around](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829923) by [sksNinja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksNinja/pseuds/sksNinja)




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